


Venus If You Will

by FleetSparrow



Series: Story a Day in May 2018 [31]
Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 19:05:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14817131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetSparrow/pseuds/FleetSparrow
Summary: A sculptor finishes his beautiful statue and asks the gods to give her life.  Only he expected a little more gratitude about the whole thing.





	Venus If You Will

**Author's Note:**

> Day 31 of Story a Day in May. Prompt: Write about a creative person who's finished or is in the throes of finishing a huge creative project.
> 
> This has been really fun for me to write all these days (plus the 50 days of Pupship that coincided), but I think it'll be nice to have a break.

The sculptor stepped back from his creation, exhausted and relieved. Finally, he'd freed her from the marble, his Venus. He looked upon her with reverent awe.

"Gods above, grant my creation life!"

The eyelids fluttered. A finger twitched. Slowly, the statute came to life.

"My love!" the sculptor cried. "The gods have blessed me and brought you to life."

The statue yawned and stretched. "Where am I?"

"You are in my studio in Paris."

"Paris? What am I doing in Paris?"

"I have made you. I have freed you from the marble, and so you came to me. My dearest love!"

The statue looked at him curiously. "And you had to sculpt me nude, because...?"

"Your beauty should not be covered," he said, coming to her. He touched a soft thigh and she recoiled. "My darling?"

"I'm not your darling, chump," she said, stepping down from the pedestal. "But I am curious about Paris. When are we?"

"I'm sorry?"

"No need to apologize, just answer. When are we?"

"It's 1965."

"Is it? Groovy!"

She sauntered around the room, picking up things and absently tossing them aside. "I need clothes. Get them for me."

"But my dear, I want to make love to you. You don't need clothes. We have everything we need right here."

She turned to face him, her expression dark like the tides. "You free a goddess and do not heed her commands? That's very unwise."

The sculptor made a pleading noise in his throat. "I have no money for things that would suit you."

"I don't care how you get them, just get me some."

He looked around his layered drapes and scattered clothes. "Perhaps these will suit you for now?" He held up a loose smock and some jeans.

She looked at them and shrugged. "They will do."

He watched her dress, sighing in contentment. "You're even more beautiful."

The smock had a loose opening, and draped around her frame exposed one breast. "This suits me. But I must have the latest fashions soon. I want to live it up in this timeline. Do you know how hard it is to come out into the world lately? How long I've had to wait while some moron writes poetry about me instead of painting me? And how dreadful some of the paintings are!"

"But I was kind to you, yes? I made you how you are!"

"You made me what you wanted," she said. "But I will be content with this as long as I am free to move about the human world again."

She walked to the window and peered out. Below was a street full of colorful clothes and bright young people.

"I can't wait to join them," she said, her voice filled with glee. "They look so happy. And what's that? Music! I can't wait to dance to some music again!"

She danced around the room to the beat of the song coming from the apartment below them. She didn't offer for him to join her, so he didn't. He merely watched her, the distance between them growing farther and farther away even in his small apartment.

"I freed you," he said sadly. "You should want to repay me and thank me."

She stopped dancing. "Should I? Am I supposed to thank you for doing what countless mortals have done in the past? 'Oh, but she's the goddess of love, she should want to thank me. I've done her such a favor.'" She spit. "It doesn't mean I love you."

The sculptor looked horrified.

"If you wanted some sweet thing to thank you, you should've carved my aunt Hestia. At least she would bake you something."

"But I wanted your love."

"Tough titty, pal. We don't always get what we want."

He rushed to her. "Then are you going to leave me to starve and be destitute? Are you going to leave me alone with nothing but my longing for you?"

"You could become my servant," she said, looking down on him. "You would suit me. How good is your tongue?"

"My what?"

"Your tongue. How good are you at using it?"

He brought himself up. "I have never had complaints against me."

She hummed in thought. "I suppose you'll do. You must try hard, for I am not easily impressed. I have had some of the best lovers in history! The rest weren't interested."

"How anyone could resist you is astounding."

"Gay people exist, buddy. Not everyone's into these luscious curves." She smirked. "And some are very interested."

"I'm interested."

She pushed him to the ground and stood above him. "Very well," she said, dropping the jeans. "You may begin."


End file.
